


Writing Server Exercises

by trashgoblinwizardparty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Female Tom Riddle, Gen, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Older Harry Potter, metaphysical muttering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashgoblinwizardparty/pseuds/trashgoblinwizardparty
Summary: I'm just going to upload my writing exercises from the writing server here because why not?chapter one: the same scene from two different POVschapter two: first person POV with a ~*MYSTERY character*~chapter three: disliked tropes





	1. Same scene, two viewpoints.

**Author's Note:**

> as the summary says, this is a series of exercises from the writing server, so there isn't any kind of cohesive plot between the chapters. 
> 
> also they've not been betaed at all so read at your own risk ;)

**Harry POV**

“What are you doing up there, Potter?” 

Harry froze, realizing how he must look, dangling by his arms from the rafters in the Astronomy Tower. Tom Riddle’s smooth voice took him by surprise—he was sure no one had seen him come up here. 

The book had said “ _ hang thyself from the tallest tower and observe the heavens until the truth reveals itself.” _ It was a bit vague on the details, but Harry couldn’t afford to get anything less than an E in Advanced Rituals if he was going into Curse-breaking as a career. 

The Astronomy Tower was always deserted in the middle of the day—especially on hot days, when the sun baked the stone an oven and heated up the entire room. It was the perfect place to practice in peace. 

Or so he’d thought. 

“What I do in my own free time is none of your business, Riddle,” Harry said, with as much dignity as he could muster (which, admittedly, wasn’t much, considering his rather compromising position). 

Riddle made a non-committal sound, gazing up at him as if he were a specimen on display at a muggle museum.  

Harry felt his face heat up. Of course it had to be _ Riddle _ who found him like this. Perfect Prefect Tom  _ fucking _ Riddle, darling of Slytherin house. No doubt Harry’s sneaky little Slytherin sister Lucy would tell Dad and Sirius how Riddle had caught him mid-ritual. He’d never live it down. 

“What do you want,” Harry snapped. 

His hands were starting to cramp, and his arms ached. He was very aware of Riddle’s cold, dark eyes on him as a bead of sweat made its way down the small of his back. He fought down the urge to squirm a bit. 

“Maybe I just want to watch you fall.” 

It was quiet, barely more than a whisper, but the words fell heavy into the stifling heat of the room and sent an unwelcome shiver up Harry’s spine. 

“What—” 

But Harry’s question was cut off as his sweaty palms lost their purchase on the splintery wood of the rafters and, with a gut-wrenching feeling like the world dropping out from beneath him, he fell. 

Right on top of Riddle. 

Harry flailed to avoid landing on the other boy, but, in the process, caused both of them to tumble to the ground. 

Harry’s head impacted with the stone floor hard enough to see stars. When his vision finally cleared, he was flat on his back. 

With Riddle sprawled on top of him. 

“S-s-sorry…” Harry managed. His face was on fire, probably as red as Ron’s hair, and he was horribly aware of the firm lines of Riddle’s body pinning him to the floor. “You can, um, get off now?” 

Riddle smirked down at him, making absolutely no effort to move. “Oh? You want me to  _ get off _ ?” 

Riddle’s perfect hair was a bit mussed, and his eyes were so dark they looked nearly black as they seemed to bore into Harry’s very soul. 

Riddle licked his lips, and Harry swallowed, choosing to ignore the double-entendre. This was really, really not the time to be thinking of...of…

“Oh, Harry Potter. I’ve finally got you exactly where I want you.” 

  
  


***

  
  


**Tom POV**

The Astronomy Tower was normally deserted at this time of day, and therefore the perfect place for Tom to practice a particularly dark little hex he’d found in a book pilfered from Malfoy’s collection. 

The heat of the early-summer day would make most people avoid this tower, but Tom was unbothered, after casting a Cooling Charm on himself. 

So it was a bit of a surprise to open the door and find a rather sweaty Harry Potter dangling by his arms from the rafters. 

“What are you doing up there, Potter?” 

The words were out of his mouth before he even had a chance to consider. Ordinarily, he’d be annoyed that someone else was using his space. But with Potter, irritation gave way to amusement. The Gryffindor was so very easy to rile up, and his blushing face set off his green eyes fetchingly.

Potter gave a twitch and looked down at him, red-faced. “What I do in my own free time is none of your business, Riddle.” 

“Mmmm.” 

The clasp on Potter’s robes was open, and he wasn’t wearing his waistcoat or tie, his Oxford untucked from his trousers—the unrepentant sloppiness of which would’ve annoyed Tom, were it anyone but Potter. 

Disheveled was a good look on Harry Potter. 

Tom’s current position afforded him an unobstructed view of the tantalizing strip of skin and the subtle curve of hip bones uncovered by Potter’s shirt. A trail of sparse, dark hair made an intriguing line from his navel to where it disappeared into his trousers.  

“What do you want?” Potter snapped. 

“Maybe I just want to watch you fall.” Tom was so distracted by the tableau before him that his answer was entirely honest, in a way he rarely was. 

“What—” 

But at that moment, Potter’s hands slipped and he fell. Tom, for his part, tried to dodge—everything happened so quickly that he didn’t even try to reach for his wand, acting only on instinctual self-preservation to get out of the way. 

But Harry Potter had an uncanny knack for ruining all of Tom’s carefully-laid plans. 

The Gryffindor landed on top of him, just as Tom was attempting to back away, and they rolled together across the hard stone floor. 

Potter had landed on top of him, but of course, that wouldn’t do at all, so Tom rolled them over again, while Potter was still dazed. 

“S-s-sorry…” Potter blinked up at him as Tom held him pinned and helpless to the floor. “You can, um, get off now?”

Tom decided that “pinned and helpless beneath him” was an excellent place for Potter to be. He favored him with his best charming smile.

“Oh? You want me to  _ get off _ ?”

Crude, but effective, as he delighted in the other boy’s instant blush. 

He had planned on practicing a hex, but now the afternoon was shaping up to be infinitely more interesting. 

“Oh, Harry Potter. I’ve finally got you exactly where I want you.” 


	2. first person POV: guess who it is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very, very short. blink and you'll miss it!

I’ve spent my entire life at the edge where two worlds meet. One, the known world, the one I’m familiar with. The other, unknown and unknowable. I stay here, a guardian of the gateway, just as my father and grandfather did. 

I’ve seen so many people come through the gateway, both from the known world and the unknown, going about their lives. To them I’m a fixture, just like the gateway itself, a friendly face to welcome them over the threshold. 

The tables have been polished to gleaming and the chairs have been put up. The candles are so used to being snuffed out at this time of night that they often do it themselves, now. 

I make one last round to renew the wards before I venture upstairs. Tomorrow will be the same, just as yesterday, and the day before. 

Nothing changes here in limbo.


	3. disliked tropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this week's exercise was "a ship or trope you hate" 
> 
> i combined two: fem!tom riddle/male!harry potter, older!harry/younger!tom, and straight!harry 
> 
> again, not betaed at all

The first mistake Harry Potter, Master of Death, made was deciding to poke around in other timelines. Well, perhaps that wasn’t the *first* mistake he’d made, but it was ultimately the one which precipitated this whole disaster. He’d always been too curious for his own good.

The second mistake he’d made was deciding to fill in as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor after Professor Merrythought retired. He hadn’t thought it had been a mistake at the time, since it had become something of a game for him, hopping from timeline to timeline, keeping tabs on Tom Riddle, teaching a class or five at Hogwarts… But here, his curiosity would be the end of him.

The third mistake Harry Potter made was underestimating this universe’s Tom Riddle. Or Tabitha Riddle, as the case would be. She still went by “Tom,” though, for reasons Harry didn’t want to think too hard about.

“Hard” was something he didn’t want to think about either, as Tom, seventeen, all long, dark hair and sharp angles and eyes that flashed red, crowded Harry back against his own desk. He’d kept her after class for hexing Druella Rosier when she thought he wasn’t looking. (Or at least, he told himself that’s why he kept her after class.) Perhaps that had been her plan all along, Harry pondered, as she curled her fingers around his necktie and looked up at him from under dark lashes, feigning coyness. He absently noted that she wore the Resurrection Stone on her finger. The cloying scent of murder clung to it—she’d made it a horcrux already. Of course she did.

He didn’t want to think about what it said about him that he was attracted to the teenage, female version of his mortal enemy. But then again, as the faintly dark, floral scent of her perfume overwhelmed his senses, and she closed the space between them to bring her lips to his, he supposed he didn’t want to think at all right now.


End file.
